


Dance Of Fate And Free Will

by Yeggnog



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeggnog/pseuds/Yeggnog
Summary: "Life is the dance between fate and free will. To make fate truly mean something, free will needs to be utilized."What would happen, if the fight between Shang Buhuan and Sha Wusheng actually occurred on that fateful evening?(rewritten + reposted, I did not vibe with the old ver™, but here it is!)
Relationships: Rin Setsu A | Lǐn Xuě Yā & Setsu Mu Sho | Shā Wú Shēng, Rin Setsu A | Lǐn Xuě Yā & Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn, Setsu Mu Sho | Shā Wú Shēng & Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn, Setsu Mu Sho | Shā Wú Shēng/Sho Fu Kan | Shāng Bù Huàn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Dance Of Fate And Free Will

_Life is the dance between fate and free will. To make fate truly mean something, free will needs to be utilized._

  
  


The night had settled, the moon dangled in the sky. The blossoms fell and glided as the moonlight pierced through the semi-transparent petals. The evening winds were guided by the dancing blades, as the sounds of the metal echoed through the land, those who were once high and mighty cowered at the disturbance.

As the blades of Sha Wu Sheng and Shang Bu Huan came in contact, not a single soul dared to approach them. The sharp clang of the weapons resonated across the empty courtyard, the sheer amount of force in each swing caused burning sparks to form, glaring menacingly in the darkness.

The twin blades wielded by Sha Wusheng moved with menacing fluidity, striking with deadly precision. Each swing moved as if the blades were an extension of himself, moving as if it was a pair of iron wings.

Living, breathing wings, striking at Shang Buhuan, striking as if the feathers were fashioned to be deadly.

Fashioned to be clipped.

And ceased from flying.

[with five rounds, we shall know the victory and defeat]

With each strike, the duo blades were blocked with ease by the rough-looking sword. With each strike, the sound of a hollow temple, a gong, or a deep war percussion resonated from Shang Buhuan’s blade as it met the deadly wings.

Each time, the tone of the clashing blades would be a little different.

But it always signaled for the battle to go on.

Sha Wusheng watched as the swords glided across the air, the poorly made sword moved as if it was synchronized with Shang Buhuan’s very being. Breathing, seeing. Sha Wusheng watched as the blade pushed through the air, gently taking hold of the sharpened feathers with horrific ease, he watched as his wings bounced from the blade’s body.

If Sha Wusheng’s blades were made to be his wings, then Shang Buhuan’s blades were made to channel his soul.

Wusheng watched the opposing blade as the wild wings whirled beside him, the piercing sounds of the sliced through air resembled the cries of crows, howling as it inched closer to Shang Buhuan.

But instead of dodging, he watched him opening the blade’s palms, waiting for the wings.

The blade took the blow, grappling the wings tightly, the force between the clashing swords forced Shang Buhuan backward, pushing him into the ground as his knees threatened to give out and bend to the wing’s will.

But then he spun.

The deafening sound of a wooden gong resonated across the courtyard, the shockwaves kicked up the resting dirt as the force from Wusheng’s blade ricocheted off of the Shang Buhuan’s blade.

The soul opened its palms and flung towards the sky, releasing the flightless wings back into the wind.

  
  


The results were clear.

Silence returned to the night.

“...Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Excuse me?”

“I lost, it’s time for you to take your prize.”

“...”

Shang Buhuan glanced at the crouching figure, “I’m not gonna kill you, if that’s what you were expecting.”

The statement was met with a dismissive scoff followed by an alarmingly light tone, “For all these years that I’ve fought, I have never lost. And never once have I spared an opponent's life. It’ll only be fair if I too, die by the blade of an opponent who defeated me,” Wusheng robotically lifted his gaze from the ground, his facial expression gradually twisted into a maniacal grin, “That would be my fate.”

“Ah geez, what the hell,” Buhuan scratched his forehead, unnerved by Wusheng’s expression. He took quick, short steps over to the crouching man as he sheathed his sword, kneeling to face Wusheng, “Man, get up. I just told you that I don’t give a damn about fate, I sure as hell am not gonna execute someone in the name of it.”

He held out his hand, “Besides, I want the flute, not your life.”

As he kneeled, Wusheng could feel the guarded stare and the defensive stance under all the feigned nonchalance, he cackled, “Even after my defeat, you are still guarded against me.”

“Well, can you blame me?”

“Not at all, traveler of Xi you. I am the Screaming Phoenix Killer, after all.”

Buhuan could feel his eyes rolling at the statement, he didn't bother to refute or explain how Wusheng’s title had nothing to do with his guarded disposition.

The fight was exhausting, he almost died, the conversation before and after the fight only strengthened Buhuan’s perception of Wusheng being on the brink of insanity. The adrenaline had likely diminished any effect that the alcohol could’ve had on him.

He just wants to go back to the inn and sleep.

“If you think I’ll simply hand you the flute after my defeat, then you are beyond naive, traveler of Xi you.”

“Hah?” Buhuan spluttered, he paused then sighed in frustration, “...God, I completely forgot that I was here for that.”

He scrunched up his nose and scratched his forehead, “Gah, anyways, my hand isn’t out for the flute, damn it, It’s for you. Get up and get some rest. We’ll talk about the flute tomorrow.”

The statement caught Wusheng by surprise, he stared at Buhuan’s extended hand, hovering as it waited for Wusheng to take it.

Upon seeing his gesture being met with a blank stare, Buhuan dropped his stance, “You know what, I’m too old for this shit.”

Instead, he stood up and stretched, gently ruffling Wusheng’s hair as he languidly made his way away from the now-trashed courtyard, “Do me a favor and don’t break the flute tonight, sleep well.”

The wind accompanied the leaving traveler into the night, lifting the fallen blossoms from the ground, making the pedals dance between his steps. The pink, yellow and whites colored the corners of Wusheng’s sight, he watched as they surrounded Buhuan, wavering in the air as if they were bidding the man farewell. The scene was akin to a fairytale.

“He’s an interesting one, isn’t he?”

The petals disappeared into a wisp of smoke, Sha Wusheng broke his gaze from Shang Buhuan’s trail and turned his attention to the voice, readying his sword. Behind the blossoming tree, a man with white hair revealed himself, laughing as he took a long draw from his pipe.

“You.”

“Long time no see, dear Wusheng.”

Sha Wusheng shot up, replying through a grin and gritted teeth, “How long have you been watching?”

Gui Niao mused, “Hmm, right about when Sir Shang flung you across the courtyard. Ah, it’s quite troubling to think what might’ve happened to him, isn’t it?”

Gui Niao peered at Wusheng’s disheveled form, “He handled you quite well.”

“Enough chit chat,” His grip on the swords tightened as he aimed them at Gui Niao’s face, “Let the blades do the talking.”

Gui Niao only laughed, “My, my, can’t we settle this with words?”

“Everything important could be settled with a sword.”

Gui Niao took another draw from his pipe, his placid expression was unwavering, peering at Wusheng, who’s sword looked like it was going to fly out of his hand. Gui Niao laughed again, “But that’s not what had just happened with Sir Shang, isn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

“He beat you,” Gui Niao said, his voice was framed by an eerie smirk, “And didn’t take your life.”

As Gui Niao’s laughter echoed through the night, tension started to condense in the air, “I’m surprised that you didn’t take the opportunity to kill him.”

Gui Niao chuckled to himself, drawing breaths after breaths from his pipe as Sha Wusheng aimed at Gui Niao’s throat.

“Now, Wusheng,” the man approached the iron wings, lowering them with his bare hands with the utmost confidence, ignoring Wusheng’s bitter glare, “I have a proposal that would work for the both of us.”

Gui Niao paused, emptying his pipe of the ashes.

His hands left the blade, reaching for the bundle of tobacco he kept on himself at all times. He removed the contents from the bundle, then gently pushed it into the pipe, drawing out

Every,

Little,

movement.

Wusheng snapped, “Well?”

“How impatient,” With a flick of his fingers, the contents in Gui Niao’s pipe burnt alight, wisps escaping the confines of the ember flames, “Goodness, you’re just like Sir Shang.”

“I don’t have time for your wretched trickery,” Wusheng said, his tone laced with rage and scorn, “Speak before I end you with my blade instead.”

Gui Niao replied, “Well, before you interrupted me, I was going to suggest that you play the flute and take us through the enchanted maze. Once we make it past the maze and through the tower, you’re free to take my head.”

Gui Niao smiled as Wusheng sheathed his swords, “Hmph, this is not up for you to decide, I plan to talk to the man of Xi you tomorrow.”

“It’s a mere suggestion, lovely Wusheng. And besides,” a flicker of delight danced within Gui Niao’s voice, “You seem unsatisfied with the fight.”

The smoke proceeded to grow denser as Gui Niao turned on his heel, moving to the direction of Shang Buhuan’s path, “I hope you would consider this, dear, for all I know, Sir Shang would appreciate your gesture. If my head was on my shoulder for a little longer, maybe I can bargain you a rematch.”

“Do not get ahead of yourself, Lin Xueya.”

As the ghastly figure disappeared into the darkness, leaving Wusheng behind as he stood alone in the empty courtyard.

He sneered at the moon.

What fool wouldn’t like to have Lin Xueya’s detached head served to him on a silver platter?

Surely, the man of Xi you wouldn’t mind.

Right? 

* * *

The evening sun painted the sky with shades of orange and purple, only to be desaturated by the opaque fog on the river.

As the boat sliced through the night fog, Shang Buhuan stood alone at the tip, the humid air glided past his face, leaving minuscule droplets behind, dripping down his skin. He watched until the orange was replaced by a deep hue of navy blue, watched until the purples are no longer visible.

It’s a shame that the stars were hidden tonight.

The moment of silence was welcomed, the calm of the night was something familiar even in the foreign land of Dong Li. He took a breath, catching the hints of rotting flesh in the water.

He grimaced and tried to ignore the smell, ignoring the thoughts of how it may have come to be in the first place.

He reflected on the conversations he had with his current boat-mates.

Shou Yunxiao. While he was understandably suspicious of Shang Buhuan, he was almost impossible to communicate with. His open hostility was impossible to get through to.

Everything that came out of Xing Hai’s mouth was laced in passive aggression and mockery, stuff too cryptic for Shang Buhuan to get. 

Juan Canyun’s vents and disbelief towards his Xi You origins were slightly amusing, while Dan Fei’s ignorance to danger was borderline concerning.

Gui Niao is a bastard.

And Sha Wusheng was like a goddamn crow. For the entire morning, he refused to shut up about sword techniques, how life only leads to death, the fight in the courtyard, how he’s gonna kill Gui Niao, and how Shang Buhuan was from Xi You.

He grumbled. The bird-like motifs, the tendency to run their mouths, if Shang Buhuan didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that Gu Niao and Sha Wusheng were related, or exes.

Actually, it wouldn’t be surprising if they were exes.

Or maybe they were sworn brothers? But then again, Wusheng probably would’ve yapped about that too.

Then does that make the exes story applicable? 

He wouldn’t be surprised if half of the team was composed of Gui Niao’s exes.

Buhuan felt light-headed from the onslaught of ridiculous speculations, he groaned as he smacked his face, basking in the absolute bullfuckery that he has gotten himself into. 

No matter what relationship these people had, Gui Niao is one ballsy motherfucker to invite them on this trip.

He stood there, staring deep into the night, melatonin failed to settle in despite his fatigue, despite the humidity irritating his face, he remained alone at the front.

How the hell did he get roped into this? Why was he here in the first place? How does bringing Dan Fei into the tower benefit her in any way? Why are they putting her in more danger than she already was??

“Planning to get the first kill, man of Xi You?”

Thoughts that once plagued Shang Bu Huan immediately dissipated, forcing him into a state of defense despite his mental exhaustion, the owner of the voice glided towards him silently despite his seemingly clunky footwear.

“Good evening, Wusheng. Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“That’s what I should be saying to you, man of Xi You,” Wusheng replied, “I know you are a fool, but didn’t know you were a hypocrite as well.”

“Insomnia.”

“And I would say the same.”

The remaining space at the front of the boat was quickly taken up by Sha Wusheng’s presence, he took out the bone flute and started to twirl it in his hand.

A moment of silence passed.

“I am curious, man of Xi You,” Wusheng spoke, “what makes you think you can escape from the fate of death?”

Shang Buhuan replied, “Now, when did I say that?”

“Fate and death, life and death, all are governed by the sword, those who think they can control fate walks the path of futile stupidity,” He paused, face contorted into a mocking sneer, “You sparing me will not change my fate, nor would it change yours, for that is the path of the sword.”

“...Buddy, what the hell are you talking about?”

Wusheng scowled, with the flute again, he jabbed at Buhuan in the chest, “You are obviously a master in your own right, yet you act like a craven coward.”

The flute disconnected from Buhuan, dangling by Wusheng’s side, “You crossed the spirit of wasteland, defeated me in combat, yet refused to bring me my fate.”

With a raging intensity, Wusheng stepped closer to Shang Buhuan, “I have found a swordsman worthy of a fight, yet he was as dull as a wooden sword.”

Something pushed against Wusheng, ceasing his path.

“Careful bud, you’re getting too close.”

The hilt of Shang Buhuan’s unsheathed sword pushed against Wusheng’s bare chest, resting on his sternum. While there was no detectable force being exerted on the hilt, the oppressing pressure from Shang Buhuan’s stance made Wushang halt his steps.

Wusheng spoke again, “After I take Gui Niao’s head, I want you to give me what is rightfully mine, lest I hand you the fate that was rightfully yours.”

Shang Buhuan peered at Sha Wusheng, despite the darkness, he caught a hint of a manic smile, rage, and a glint of deadly determination seeping through Wusheng’s seemingly unmoving face. He sighed defeatedly, “What’s up with you and Gui Niao?” 

Wusheng answered, “He took away something important from me, something more important than life itself. For that, it is only right for him to pay with his own life.”

Shang Buhuan pondered, “…Pretty upfront about it, huh. Then don’t mind my bluntness, Screaming Phoenix, but I think you should reconsider your plan before it’s too late.”

The statement was met with silence. For a moment, Shang Buhuan attributed the reluctance as silence agreement, but just as he turned to peer at Sha Wusheng, he was met with a cold smirk, “Your arrogance is foolishly absurd, man of Xi You, all swordsmen will go though this the split-second decision of life or death.” 

Sha Wusheng paused, the dissatisfaction on his face becoming painfully obvious, “Yet between the two of us, the lesser swordsman somehow understood this unshakeable truth better than the master. You make a mockery out of the path of the sword.”

Shang Buhuan interjected, “If you really do believe the split binary of life and death, then you wouldn’t let Gui Niao prance around in the first place. You would’ve killed him on sight.”

“A man who never understood the path of life and death will never understand the severity of Gui Niao’s crimes, nor understand the rule of the hunt.”

“Yeah, you’re right, I don’t know much about hunting and shit,” Shang Buhuan replied, “But it looks to me that he’s doing the hunting, not you.”

At that, Wusheng went silent. 

The river approached the morning as the cold blue light peaked through the opaque fog. Both the man and the bird were wide awake.

But the bird was silent as the sun rose.

Shang Buhuan ceased his speech, “...Ah geez. I see I have overstepped,” He hastily turned on his heel, “The sun is rising, It’s best to get some rest.” 

The clear sound of the wind-cutting steel halted Shang Buhuan’s step as the glint from Feng Ti swords reflected the light of the slowly rising sun.

“Elaborate. I would like to see what a man who walks the path of cowardice has to say about the path of the sword.”

Shang Buhuan’s face tightened.

[let me leave already, you crazy bastard!]

“I’ve already overstepped.”

“And I am here to tell you to keep pushing, Buhuan,” Wusheng replied through gritted teeth, he gently tipped his sword up, the end of the sword lifting Shang Buhuan’s chin, guiding it to face Wusheng’s direction, “Keep. Talking.”

Instead, he received a sharp sigh, “What else is there for me to say, hm? That I am adamant about killing you by the osmanthus inn?”

“But you didn’t.”

“That, I did not.”

“...What made you stop?”

“Now we’re just going in circles again,” With two fingers, The blade tip was pushed away from Shang Buhuan’s neck, “I won’t kill someone who no longer has the intention to kill me. The only reason why I’d need to kill you,” He took a few long strides, ending in front of Wusheng, “Is if you pose a threat to Dan Fei or Canyun.”

The response was met with silence, then a snort.

“How valiant, how about Gui Niao, Xing Hai, and Shou Yunxiao?”

“They can handle themselves. Those kids can’t yet.”

As the sun inched upward towards the sky, the morning sun cascaded onto Sha Wusheng, framing his cold, unmoving face under a gentle, warm light.

He sneered as he spoke with a voice laced in cyanide, “What would you do, if someone took something from you that was more important than your life?”

“That question again, huh... ” Shang Buhuan pondered.

Wusheng stared, patiently wait for an answer, but he received yet another question from all the pondering:

“What could be more important than your life?”

“My reputation,” Wusheng replied, “My chance at redemption. My hope. My trust.”

At that, Shang Buhuan became silent once more, through the corner of Wusheng’s eyes, he could see the man genuinely trying to dissect his situation.

His sneer dropped, replaced by something kinder.

Shang Buhuan spoke, “Reputation is a thing that comes and goes. One does not need it, and sometimes, it better to do without it,” He carried himself back to the front of the boat, basking in the sunrise as it coated the boat and river in warmth, “This is a country, not a schoolyard, if the law doesn’t determine your redemption, then the redemption needs to come from within. You have no control over what the world thinks about you, might as well accept that.”

“I can’t tell you what you need, that’s for you to find, but I can tell you,” He turned to face Wusheng, the golden light showered and framed the wanderer’s figure, his silhouette stood tall and straight against the breaking mist as he looked into Wusheng’s widened eyes, “You wanted revenge against Gui Niao, right? Then live your best life, and live it with every hope and happiness you can find in this tattered world. I can’t think of a better revenge than that.” 

As the golden light slowly lost its color, Wusheng spoke as Shang Buhuan made his way back onto the main boat body, “What makes you say so?”

“Eh, he seems like the type of person who enjoys another person’s misfortune, those types of people are usually really easy to piss off if you hit the right buttons,” Shang Buhuan shuddered, “Sadly I have no buttons to ward him off for myself.”

Wusheng winced.

[That was not what I meant.]

“What’s wrong?”

The coldness thawed from Wusheng’s face, leaving behind a desolate visage, “He was my first friend. He gave me hope, I gave him trust, I couldn’t just let this go.”

A distant figure cloaked in red flashed across Shang Buhuan’s mind, a tinge of guilt slowly grappled him by the shoulders as he pursed his lips, “... Let me tell you a secret, Wusheng: real friends don't go out of their way to destroy each other. The moment they plan to do so is the moment they cease to be your friend.”

Shang Buhuan quickly squeezed Wusheng’s arm, “He may be your first, but sure as hell don't make him your last.”

At that, Shang Buhuan walked away, returning to his room to pack for the day. As he made his way back, a bright burst of laughter resonated across the boat.

But unlike the mocking, primal unfeeling howls that were feared by the inhabitants of Dong Li, this one sounded like a symphony of newly hatched birds, greeting the sun for the first time after winter. 

[But I do wonder, is it really was trust that he stole, or is it something else?]

[something

Like

  
  


free will?]

* * *

“OI! SOMEONE STEP OUT OF THE SPELL RING AND HELP ME!!”

With a swift flurry of the blade, the row of walking corpses approaching Shang Buhuan were sliced in half, the pure concentrated force of the blade flung their remains across the grey, grimy wasteland, slamming into a few other incoming corpses and knocking them prone.

Just behind Shang Buhuan, his so-called teammates remained steady in Dan Fei’s protective spell ring, the long pale ribbons shielding the group from the walking corpses’ grasps.

Fatigue grew with every attack, the corpses projected far from the group.

“Sorry, traveler, we gotta hold on to the borders.”

“It’s true, Sir Shang,” Dang Fei stammered, “Juan and Sir Shou can’t let go of the ribbon borders lest the spell ring breaks.”

“Wusheng,” Shang Buhuan’s blade glided through a corpse’s torso, “Help a buddy out here?”

Wusheng replied, “hm... I don’t know,” he stretched languidly as Shang Buhuan struggled against the corpses, “I’m pretty comfortable right now, I’ll tag in later if I feel like it, for now, I’ll just cheer you on from the sidelines.”

“What the hell, how does cheering help in any way!?”

With another powerful blast of qi, corpses that once threatened to swarm Shang Buhuan were projected across the valley of the dead, shattered into bits and pieces, brain matter and dirt scattered across the ground as more of the corpses trampled over the obliterated remains.

“Gui Niao, Xing Hai?? Can you two hurry the hell up!?”

“Would you pipe down? We’re in the middle of something here.”

Shang Buhuan bellowed, “YoU MOTHERFUCKERS!” He lunged his sword into the soil, “YOU GUYS ARE DOING THIS ON PURPOSE!!”

Within the 20 meter radius from the sword, the dirt exploded into the air like a heavy-hitting bass drum, launching the surrounding corpses high into the sky.

One by one, the incoming corpses were crushed by the falling body parts as more of them approached Shang Buhuan. 

While the corpses were easy to destroy, the sheer number, the fact that they could respawn at any time, and the fact that they will fight again lest they were destroyed made fighting them hell. 

For a moment, Shang Buhuan felt like his lungs were collapsing, the noxious mist slowly filled his lungs.

“Good fucking god.”

Just as he was about the strike again, the sharp sound of metal glided past Shang Buhuan. His gaze followed the sound, before him was a familiar sword piercing the head of an approaching undead. A steak of purple starlight stepped and glided in the air with jaw-dropping speed, reappearing as Sha Wusheng’s form midair, spinning to the ground with deadly aim. As he landed, a powerful blast of qi soared from Wusheng’s sword, slicing the row of corpses approaching Shang Buhuan.

“Wusheng?”

“Don’t think too much of this,” Wusheng replied. He clasped his hand onto the sword’s hilt, in a flash, the pieced corpse was carved into half, “I got bored watching.”

The battle went on for another ten minutes or so, by the time Gui Niao and Xing Hai found the time of the corpses’ death, all but one corpse stood alone, wavering on the valley of the dead.

The corpse exploded into a shower of dust and bone as Xing Hai sang her last note.

“...Thanks.”

“Hmph.”

As the group headed on, Wusheng felt something hitting him in the back of his head, a bit of ash dusting and staining the sides of his cape.

“Why did you step out of the ring?”

Wusheng scoffed, “Why do you care, Gui Niao?”

“Because,” He drew a quick breath from his pipe, “He could clearly handle himself, look at him, he just killed a bunch of super-sonic corpses while breathing in noxious gas, don't you want to see what else is he capable of?”

"I'll know when I fight him again."

Gui Niao huffed quietly as he hastily rejoined the group, hiding any trace of annoyance under a tight and rigid smile.

At this sight, a tinge of smugness bubbled in Wusheng’s chest, welling within him ‘till dawn.

* * *

  
  


The tower up close looked like a forest of bones, the harrowing caws of the skeletal birds rang through the dark, ominous sky, looming over what was left of the group.

“They’re probably in there already.”

“Indeed. Let’s say hello, now, shall we?”

Just as Xing Hai’s voice fell, a long, stick-like figure flew in her direction, only to be swiftly caught by Shou Yunxiao.

The bone flute.

Yunxiao steadily lowered his arm, his gaze still trained on Sha Wusheng, “What are you doing?”

The man faced the bellowing winds and mountains, rather than facing the castle ahead, he watched as the dying sun sets from afar.

“I’m not going.”

“Hm?”

“Hate to break it to you two,” Wusheng turned, the killing intent that once blurred his eyes had faded, the red dulled into a darker, calmer tint, “But I’ll be seeing myself out.”

Xing Hai rose a brow, “Ho? I thought you wanted to kill Lin Xueya? Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“I’m here to play the flute, I care about nothing else.” 

At that, Wusheng turned on heel and made his way down the mountains.

“Oi, don’t you need the flute to pass through the maze?” Juan Canyun blurted at the leaving figure.

“Keep that tune-less flute, I’ll find my own way out.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Lin Xueya no longer interests me. I have better things to attend to.”

As his words faded into the air, he heard the quiet whispers between Shou Yunxiao and Xing Hai, and the loud declarations from Juan Canyun.

_“Is he serious?”_

_“My, my, in four days. I wonder what made him change his mind this quickly.”_

_“Is that guy for real? Is the Screaming Phoenix Killer intimidated by the castle?”_

He grits his teeth.

[If I killed that bastard, then he wouldn’t be able to see me living my best life.]

The mist amongst the maze grew thicker and thicker, surrounding the bottom of the mountain. As he approached the hazy walls, the chilling caws of the skeletal birds rung through the air.

[And if I die, Lin Xueya gets the last laugh.]

He continued to walk around the edge of the maze, waiting for an opportunity. A feeding skeletal bird, a person, anything. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of patrolling Onyx Demon members, throwing a skeletal whistle high into the air. Within a few seconds, the whistle boomeranged back into their hand, summoning a skeletal bird.

In the blink of an eye, the members became bird food as blood coated the Feng Ti swords, Wusheng picked up the whistle and examined it.

[Perfect.]

As he watched the birds finished feeding, he threw the whistle high into the sky, the chilling sound of the whistle mimicked the howls of the wind. He lifted his arm as the bird grabbed on.

[If destiny rang true, then one day, I’ll meet him again.]

Beneath him laid the gloomy lands, miles, and miles of death stretched across the forest of bones, the air pulsed with death. The graves of those who were fearless enough to embark on a fruitless journey were laid bare for the living to gawk. The caws of the skeletal bird became a reminder that, like the wastelands that Shang Buhuan had once claimed to tread through, this too, was the mass unmarked grave for those who once fought in a deadly war.

  
  


The sight was as if he was peering into the cracks of the netherworld.

There was no dignity.

No fate.

  
  
  
  


No hope.

  
  
  
  
  


As he once again stepped into the living world, only one thought remained.

[Until then, I’ll live.]

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> wrRRRY Y EE T it is hERE, the FIC
> 
> ok so I've been procrastinating on this fic and the coffeeshop fic for months while brewing an MMA AU, but this one is finally done :'D
> 
> it's not great, it's not betaed, but it's here, it's alive again, it's breathing
> 
> also yeah I deleted an old ver of the fic with the same name, the ending is kinda rushed, but its shdjkg it's something.
> 
> I still have the old version, if anyone wants it, just dm/@ me on twitter, I'll send you the google docs :D


End file.
